After the Fall
by Illead
Summary: This is a request. "Do a Snapped!Canada and France Fanfiction… The only ones I can find are Reader/Snapped!Canada." So, the giver of this request is by The-homestuck-hetalian. Without further ado, I begin a multi-chapter request. M for violence. Side UsUk(sorry... It's for some drama), and the main pair is Franada. Warning: violence, swearing, and abuse inside. Swearing involved.
1. Ch 1: Prelude

** Hello, again, everyone,

Here I am! I hurt my ankle and moved lately, but this is a request. "Do a Snapped!Canada and France Fanfiction… The only ones I can find are Reader/Snapped!Canada." So, the giver of this request is by The-homestuck-hetalian. Without further ado, I begin a multi-chapter request. I hope this intro is good… I thought it was fitting, and the rest of the story will be much better. Starts after the series of events, and the change of time. Next chapter will involve Snapped!Canada. M for violence.

Love and rainbows,

~Illead **

After the Fall

Intro:

The graveyard was empty today, and in all senses, he shouldn't even be here to see this particular person. They had shattered his fiancée's life, from childhood, and he had to piece together a broken man. Matthew, his fiancée, his dear fiancée, was finally healing. All thanks to his death, which made him see he'd been wrong. Francis sighed as he sat on the ground before the headstone, just staring at it with remorse. It had been him that killed this man, his fiancée's brother, and he regretted it. "Mon dieu… Mon dieu…" He sighed softly, looking at the name on the headstone:

_**Alfred F. Jones**_

_**1992-2013**_

"_**Great men fall for the wicked."**_

Francis read the line on the tombstone and frowned, pushing blond hair from his face to behind his ear. What would make him corrupt his Matthew like that? He had to die for his precious Matthew to see he was corrupt, and no matter what Francis said, Matthew crumbled into a ball and cried for days. No matter what, Alfred was still there in his life, in a time that was no suspended. Thanks to him, to how he caused such pain in someone special to him. But what bothered him the most was the fact he had to pretend he could heal Matthew. To heal a broken man… Easier said than done, especially when it came from Matthew.

Presently, he heard footsteps behind him; he turned and winced on instinct, seeing the pain on his fiancee's face. "Matthieu… Je suis desolee… Je suis desolee…" He pat the spot beside him, as Matthew silently nodded. Pattering to his side side in his usual way. Hugging his effeminent waist, the Frenchman kissed his hair. Ever since Alfred died, he was always like this. Since the time Alfred had, young and just 20-years-old Alfred, since Alfred had died… Nothing was the same. It was so hard to get Matthew to smile now-a-days, and it had been three months. It was now November the fourth, 2013. Those three months, he held a weeping Matthew until he fell asleep.

"It is… Not… I am zo zorry, Matthieu. Mon petit… Forgive me?" Francis never heard Matthew speak anymore, it was like he was vowing a silence against him now. It was truly understandable, but nonetheless, he wanted to hear him laugh like he used to, cry less… Beat him like he used to, even. "Come, let us go, non? Ze zooner ze better." He watched Matthew nod before cringing, regretting his word choice. Harsh, monsterous… It was like they traded places. " 'ave you eaten today, Matthieu? Let us eat dinner, zen… D'accord? Trust me, it will be fine. We can… Ze 'im tomorrow." He sighed in relief when Matthew nodded. Matthew didn't used to be like this, didn't used to be so broken and destroyed. It was Alfred in the end. Everything in his Canadian's life was Alfred. Alfred this, Alfred that… The Canadian's friend took presidense over everything they did. Perhaps, just perhaps, that was why he had to end Alfred's life. Sighing again, he kissed Matthew's ear.

"Francis… I'm sorry, too…" Matthew's voice was feeble and broken enough for the both of them. "Can we return tomorrow, to remember everything together?" The Canadian fixed his glasses over his eyes, on the bridge of his nose, offering a shy smile. "It's alright, it's alright… Eh? We'll be alright." He hugged his arm, his face going blank and his grip more a clinging notion behind it. "It will be okay." He glanced behind his shoulder, at Alfred's grave, swallowing. Turning away, he smiled secretly at the rose on the grave. A gift from Arthur, most likely, and one he had grown himself. "Arthur gave him a rose, Francis…"

Francis glanced at the rose and nodded, patting his fiancée's hand. "Zo 'e did, Mattieu, zo he did. Come, dinner. Zhall we eat pancakes?"

"Pancakes would be nice…"

"Pancakes it is. Memory lane can wait. A new day, a new memory. We've talked about this, Matthieu."

**** To be continued. Intro over.****


	2. Ch 2: You Looked Better Online

** Thank goodness for copy and paste format!

Thanks to the Fanfiction by **Miss Faber**, called "_Coffee and Cigerettes_;" as well, **FreezeDriedGorgeous**' Fanfiction "_Nights_" also inspirede me to write this tonight. That and _"Oh my Little Baby Boy_," a song by Babe, which is currently on repeat; I can write chapter two, and instantly I bring in the plot twists.

**Warning**: there is _beatings_ and _torture_, making it M-Rated, because the idea of this story is graphic... That and how my request maker has a liking to it. Who doesn't like a bit of that every now-and-then? It's not in this chapter, but the next for sure. They meet here for the first time.

It's 23:03 here, so sorry if I mispell or make this short. I plan to do a ScotCan soon, too... And, hey, I don't own _Hetalia_, and if I did... Yaoi would happen. Well, readers, enjoy... I'll get to my other stories I continue soon. Scouts honor. _Doctor Who_ was my distraction for three weeks.

Sorry if my French is a bit off... I'll tell you what the words or phrases mean at the end of the chapter. I hope the accent is right.

Love and rainbows,

~Illead **

**Chapter 2: You Looked Better Online**

Francis stared at the internet page for a few minutes before sighing. No use, really. Who was going to look at his flirtatious dating website page, the picture not accenting his stubble enough? He really was trying to find a date, though the internet wasn't always ideal. The Frenchman groaned before banging his head into his palm, suddenly alert to the screen moments later. Some messaged him? Who in their right mind would do this? The cerulean-eyed man stared at the name.

**Matthew Williams**: I s_aw your profile... It seems promising. Let's get drinks, eh? At Scott's Bar, in an hour? D'accord?*_

Well, that sounded safe to him, and he instantly replied a big, fat _yes_; perhaps he was too eager, but perhaps he didn't care. It was hard to say which it was more, or which it was less. Scott's Bar, five p.m. Casual dress, but still dressy... Perfect first date. Or... Well, it must have been a date if he found him on a dating site. Matthew was good-looking, too, with his heart shaped face and big, violet eyes behind square glasses. Nothing was too unproprotined in his picture, and he only hoped that was Matthew. If so, the man was beautiful without trying... No blemishes, no bags under his eyes, nothing on his profile to say he was anything but good. Perfect... Or close to it; damn, he knew how to pick 'em, didn't he?

The Frenchman smirked before getting a stylish button up shirt, a light blue, throwing on a coat he was given from Arthur last year. Arthur... The very same Arthur Kirkland, who left him for Alfred Jones last year. Last year seemed miles away; so far away, and so close he could touch it, hold it close like a child. Cherish it forever and never let it go, opposite how Arthur treated him. Although... No, no way Matthew was like Alfred, even if they were similar. That put it lightly, and he hated to word it like that. Alfred was a good man, he learned, after he got over Arthur... But how did one put up with the bundle of annoying energy that was the American?

Shoving that from his mind, Francis put on some dark jeans, the nice, not-quite-so-dress shoes, and headed out the door, getting the keys from the key hook by the door. Locking the front door to his medium, inner city apartment, he went into the elevator. '_First date, don't be late.' _The Frenchman sighed at the innermost workings of his mind, the modt annoying part of being the man known as Francis Bonnefoy. The thoughts of sex, the rythmic things he has like a mantra. Maybe twisted, maybe not, but he never thought about it long enough. Matthew was gorgeous, drop dead gorgeous, and utterly deadly. If he was a beating man, it wasn't a turn off. That seemed to arouse his thoughts more, potentially imagining a late night visit with him.

Francis groaned as he looked at the picture of the cell phone, he realized he failed to get the Canadian's phone number. He only know that by his 'where you are from' tab on the dating site, otherwise he never would have known. Maybe it was what his sister called his 'stalker motive' on his dates, which was more like a preditor to its prey. Or something like it, but Francis never saw the same date twice- or even for two days. One-night-stand and they were gone in a snap. Maybe he ought to try to go steady if he liked Matthew enough. No doubt he would... His shy-seeming nature was adorable in his profile picture. Unsteadily, he parked, got out, locked the car, and went into the bar. Now or never, given he was two minutes early. '_Mon dieu...'*_

There are so many people here, and he can't stand how many it is. It was going to be hard to find a blind date here. Meek-mannered Matthew could be anywhere. So many blondes, so many with heart-shaped faces. Ah, but the eyes... That was how he would find him. But staring into someone's eyes saying "Ah, _non, non, monsieur*_, I wanted to zee if you were my blind date" is a bit creepy. His eyes scanned nervously, blue eyes worried he would never- ah, there he was. The only one alone at the bar, and with the perfect halo of hair, and the warm smile. Matthew was laughing at the bartender, no drink in front of him but water. Was he not a drinker?

All courage screwed together, he approached the single male, a hand perched on his shoulder. "_Excuse-moi... Mais..."*_ How did he ask this? What did he say? 'Is this seat taken?' or 'are you expecting anyone here?' Oh hell, screw it. Cliche lines got him a nice night every other time... Worth a try, right? "Iz zhiz zeat taken?" He hoped it worked, because flirting with the wrong date got him a smack or two. "I mean... I waz looking for zomeone named _Matthieu*_ Williams. 'ave you zeen 'im?" He smiled wearily, a nervous laugh to the now-grinning man. Damn, that smile was adorable on his boyish face.

"_Oui... Je m'applle Matthieu Williams, monsieur. Enchante. Assez-vous?*_" Matthew almost could have laughed at how good he picked this man, and hoped he stuck around for a while. Alfred, his twin brother, was playing perfect boyfriend to some British man, and he felt left out. Where was his perfect, even if he was psycotic and should be locked up? At any rate, he always appologized. "Sit down, Francis Bonnefoy... Sit. _S'il te plait?*_" He could do this, fool him as long as he had to.

"Ah, _merci beaucoup, Matthieu_.* You look different than your picture, 'owever. Why iz zat?" Francis tiled his head softly, and watched the young man's face, getting a water from the bartender, determined not to drink if Matthew wasn't going to. "You are nice ztill, but... Different. _Oui_?*" He smiles coyly, a chuckle at the blush on the man's face. Matthew is stunning when he blushes, and no picture had any chance to match its beauty. The man looked beautiful and angelic when he blushes.

"Well... I hardly have pictures of myself. I photograph nature, or my brother more than myself." Matthew shruggs, like it was nothing. It means nothing to him. Pictures don't hold value, and. mostly, he grins too wise anyhow. "Though your photo was nearly spot-on, eh?"

Francis blinks, overtaken by that one little word. How could _eh_ give him a kink, when he had none before hand... None he was proud of, anyway. But mon dieu, that little, two-letter word... He was in love with that word. If it were possible, he would forever make Matthew stay by his side just to hear _that word._ 'Eh' held value now, more blissful than he was proud to admit. Ah. but he was neglecting his date... He had a brother. Family, like Matilde or Bella. "_Pardon-moi...*_ But who iz your brozer, if you don't mind me azking?"

Now the angelic Matthew (in Francis' opinion, of course) grins a white-toothed smile and g_iggles_ at him! Giggles, which is... oddly cute and endearing for a man like Matthew. His boyish face, angelically blonde hair in waves, just below his shoulders... His smile. Francis could swoon at this, but he doesn't, sipping his water as Matthew finishes his. Evidently, Matthew has been here for a while. "Alfred Jones. You met him last year. _Je suis desolee_...* For losing Arthur to Alfie. Alfie is good at getting what he wants, it would seem, _non*_? However... Would you like to go out with me again? I understand... If not, but if you do..." He trails off, a smile nervously. They just met, should he really expose his true, violent, and sadistic nature this fast?

However, Francis answers without hesitation by giving a big, fat _yes_ and honly hoped it wasn't too hasty. Angels didn't talk to him every day, after all, and Matthew was worth keeping, if the name rolled off his tongue like a pick-up line. Hook, line, and sinker. Candy from a baby. This innocent man was his for the taking, and he'd enjoy the time he had. Francis liked a challenge, and Matthew liked his victims to be gullable. Not that Francis knew yet.

-French to English translations-

D'accord? = **Alright?**

_Mon dieu... = _**My God...**

___Non, non, monsieur... = _**No, no, sir...**

_____Excuse-moi... Mais... = _**Excuse me... But...**

_____Matthieu = _**Matthew**

_______Oui... Je m'applle Matthieu Williams, monsieur. Enchante. Assez-vous? = _**Yes... My name is Matthew Williams, sir. Charmed. Sit down?**

_______S'il te plait? = _**Please? **(informal)

_________Merci beaucoup, Matthieu. _= **Thank you so much, Matthew.**

___________Oui? = _**Yes?**

_____________Pardon-moi... = _**Pardon me...**

_______________Je suis desolee_... = **I am sorry...**

_Non?_ = **No?**


	3. Ch 3: Kiss Me, Baby, I Think I Love You!

** I moved houses, and have confidence again to write this, because of the one making the request. So. Chapter three will be making out, but that's it… Never wrote smut and this is a torture Fanfiction. So, I will now ask if anyone wants to see that, and what my limits are for an M-rated Fanfiction aside from gore and swearing. I'll listen to my Carrie Underwood's "Good Girl" song, which is totally not realted, and write chapter three. All eight stories needing to be updated will be updated, hopefully today, and this is my first update of the day, and it's only 17:46. This'll be a cinch! Let me know what you want to see in any stories I'm updating or in a new idea… Or for this story.

Chow,

~Illead **

**Chapter 3**: Kiss Me, Baby, I Think I Love You!

Francis had waited three weeks to kiss his sweet Canadian, and now he had delicate hands running through Matthew's soft, blond tresses. Breaking apart from the breathtaking kiss, he smirked at the flushed Canadian, loving how he looked so flushed, so adorable… More than usual. "Ohonhonhon…~" He wasn't being lusty, right? Normally, he passed first, second, third, and hit home-run by the first night. But Matthew was special… He even shut down his dating site page until he was single again! Didn't that warrant for something?

And Matthew tasted like heaven… Did maple syrup and an occasional cigarette count (he learned Matthew smoked only on the weekends, last week… A Monday) as a turn on? It definitely turned _him_ on at any rate. It was almost sexy, and right now Matthew looked drop dead sexy. Flushed face, panting from the force of the kiss… Francis grinned. "Now, Matthew, would you like to… Go to my room, 'mm? I would much… Enjoy zat. Do you have work tomorrow?"

Matthew shook his head, a look of almost fear but definite defiance to this. "_Oui_… I would love to. Will you let me, Francis?" He giggled warmly, glad they were still clothed, glad to hide the scars on his chest and arms and sides. And he was so tempted to kiss him until his breath failed him, until he passed out; but Francis was looking more than willing to keep him awake. The Canadian shuddered at the look he was getting, before placing his lips on his cheek. He liked being two inches taller than Francis, it made him happy. All he wanted to do was tie him to the bed and… Ugh, not these thoughts again. Now was _not_ the time to think of his sick, bloody fantasies.

Francis gave what could be called a grin of triumph, picking the Canadian up bridal style. "Why of course, _mon petit lapin_~" He all but sang the tender words for 'my little rabbit.' It was an endearment, worth every utterance this past week to get him used to it. Mathew took well to it, and by Wednesday of this week he stopped frowning and asking him to change it. That was definitely a start, right? And only at three weeks, too! Going up the steps with the now-blushing Canadian, he grinned his trademark grin, opening the door to his lavish bedroom, shutting the door with his foot. Could he get Matthew to go beyond third base for him? It had been a while for him, and he was sexually starved. But he could wait for Matthew until he was ready to. Matthew was special, more than his other one-night-stands and partners before… Even if they only lasted a month.

Matthew gave a squeak and a look of amazement at the bedroom. It was _ginormous_, more than his other boyfriends (he only ever called them that… They ran away before making love, when they became lovers), and he liked this room. IT was comfortable, enough space tp bruise Francis' should skin so it hurt, to take… No, no, stop. Turn over a new leaf. Right? Leaves… Maple leaves would be good to give to Francis… He squeaked as lips pounced on his, feeling Francis setting his weight over him, not crushing him, but enough to make him give a flush lighty. E-eh… Francis…?" He cursed himself for arms wrapping around his neck, melting into the kiss he received after, eyes shutting. "Mmm…"

Francis smirked into this kiss. He had won Matthew's trust finally, and he got this far… Making out was too crude for the Frenchman. But to call it that seemed apt. _Merde…_ He groaned at the thought of the swear word, letting himself sink into the kiss, hugging the Canadian by his waist, pressing him flush against him, clothes on or not. The kissing was getting deeper, and he liked this from his angel. His angel, with a demonic side… Another damn turn on. He broke the kiss for air, Matthew panting beneath him, and they were still clothed. But Matthew didn't seem ready for this, at least not with him. Reel him in slowly, like a fish. He smiled warmly to Matthew, and with him still bewildered, kissed him, this time French kissing him, which gave a delicious moan from the man beneath him. And then he realized Matthew's body was reaction. "Should I take care of that?" Matthew only nodded, and Francis could guess he was still sensitive to him enough to spurn this. But they had all night to take care of it. And he liked the thought of it.


	4. Ch 4: The Monster Beneath

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**:

I have a review for the first time, and I hope my silent request maker likes the story… I Hardly talk to them nowadays. Actually, not at all. It almost makes me want to discontinue this Fanfiction. But… At any rate, I have some hope. **Mangageek26** gave me a review, and 57 minutes ago, I checked my email. So, I'll update everything I can today…

To reply to **Mangageek26**: _"Aww, thank you, ma'am! Here's the update… I hope you like it. It's more depressing snapped than violent snapped, but violence is coming soon."_

Well… I'm losing hope in everything- almost everything- around me, but here's chapter four. Please enjoy… Shit's about to hit the fan. I bring you, drum roll please, the actual Snapped!Matthew! I'm well versed in him… Good or bad thing that may be. Sorry I miss the accents in French. It's short, but next chapter is an Alfred and Matthew flashback.

Quick question... _WHY_ is my story under a **Hetalia X Reader commun**ity? This is a Franada and side UsUk... No reader part about it. Please explain this to me... I want to know why it's there. I don't even write _Country X reader_ things... Yeah, someone explain this to me soon. I need to know before I get mad. Thank you, and please explain in detail. I don't appreciate this. I would like a little respect here, and if you could maybe warn me next time on one of my stories, that would be _lovely_. Regards, stranger.

Love and rainbows,

~Illead

_End of note._

**Chapter 4: The Monster Beneath the Man**

Francis groaned in pain at Matthew's hands hitting his sides, his ribs, his legs, his… The Frenchman groaned. It was painful, and this was the first he had seen Matthew snap like this. Like he was a horrible man, and the sweet one he met was a hidden being. Another self… A person that had multiple personality disorder. "Mathieu, arrêter!" He groaned. "Ztop, ztop… S'il te plait… Ztop…" He felt Matthew stop, and then he heard him crying. Crying…? _Crying?_ "_Mon dieu_, Mattieu… My God… Are you… Alright? Mathieu…? Mathieu…?" He hesitantly reached out, wincing the pain he felt from the bruising torso. He was bruised everywhere, his side was the worst… Ribs broken. Groaning in pain, he touched Matthew's shoulder.

The Canadian jumped backwards, eyes wide and full of fear. His hands covered his face, his head, his neck, all at the same time, and he winced as if Francis physically hurt him back. But he soon closed his eyes and leaned into Francis. His eyes shut and he knew he hurt Francis, but it didn't matter. They both hurt, and he hurt more than physically. Whimpering, he put his head on the Frenchman's shoulder, mumbling into his chest. "Je suis désolé, je suis désolé… I am so, so, so, so sorry, Francis! I never meant… I didn't mean…" He whimpered again. "I-It's all Alfie… Alfie, he…"

Francis held his boyfriend of a month and three weeks close, protectively. So Alfred, who was with Arthur, did this to him? Made him like this somehow, someway? "I… Never knew 'e was zat 'orrible. Mon amour… Tell me something about what 'e did. I want to 'elp you…" He couldn't help but feel awful for not knowing that about Matthew. Matthew, he always knew, was special, and that first night they'd made love was divine, but he wanted to know about him now. This time, Matthew wasn't his hit-and-run relationship. This was the one he wanted, even if he was unstable. Sighing, he ran a hand gently through his love's hair, and hummed softly. Eventually, Matthew's sobs ceased and he loosened his hold on Francis.

Matthew looked upwards to Francis and whimpered once more, burying his face into his bare shoulder, the only bare part of Francis. He liked Francis, hell… Maybe he loved him, maybe. But love was foreign to him from the age of five, when his parents ignored him for Alfred. Alfred this and Alfred that. Look what Alfred did! No, Alfred, get down from the table, we don't stand there! Bad grades really don't become you, Alfred… Matthew knew he was crying again just remembering Alfred's special treatment and his ignored presence, as they grew up. "I… Could I tell you what he did? I… Um… I never told anyone before. A-and I trust you…" He whimpered. No doubt he had snapped with Francis once and would do so again, but Francis was still here. "I want to… I want to get it off my mind… T-to be a better person… But I can't! I can't! A-and I bruised you! You're hurt, a-and it's my… My…" He sobbed. "It's my fault."

Francis smoothed over his back and smiled calmly. "Mathieu… It iz alright, mon petit lapin. Come now, relax… There we go. Will you tell me? I am zo sorry 'e 'urt you…" He hummed softly, to calm his unstable, violet, snapped boyfriend. It would help Matthew, right? "Relax now… Zere we go. I will listen, if you will tell me… D'accord?" He sighed in relief when Matthew nodded. Good, that was good… He could listen forever if it helped him. And if that was one of those moments, he was willing to risk his health for him. For Matthew. For the one whom he wanted to spend forever with. Maybe that made all the difference. "When you are ready, mon amour. I 'ave all ze time in ze world."


	5. Author's Note

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**:

Sorry, for the inconvenience… Help me out here. I need an event to put into the stories I'm continuing. Let me know what you wanna see. I've been play writing nonstop and about to finish a Five Act play and start a One Act. So, what do you want to see? Let me know. Thank you…

Love and rainbows,

~Ilead


	6. Chapter 5: Beautiful Disaster

**Author's Note**: So, friends, it's been a long while. I'm sorry for my absence, I lost motivation, but thanks to my new friend, who I will call **Lylinn**, I have motivation to continue. So, thanks to Miss Lylinn. Now, I'll continue, with my willingness to finally give you that update, **Mangageek26**. I know you're there, or I hope you are. Enjoy, enjoy, friends… Give my suggestions if you have any. This will be in two sets: part one is present and italics are Mattie's past, as promised before an Alfie and Mattie flashback. It's a cruel flashback, just a warning.

Love and rainbows,

~Illead

**Translations****: **

Baiser-vous [Sorry if the French is slightly inaccurate] - F*ck you

_End of note._

**Chapter 5: Beautiful Disaster**

Francis had learned two weeks ago that Matthew had an older brother and two parents that ignored him after he turned a certain age. He'd learned that Matthew was only five when his mother died, his mother being named Jeanne, and his father's only, true love. His father was also Matthew, but his Matthew was the second to take the name. Really, the Canadian was Matthew Williams II. Matthew Williams Junior. It was an interesting point that he was a junior but never used it, and even weirder was no family photographs, save one old, faded photograph of his mother and a baby Matthew. Matthew had said last week that it was his happiest photograph he owned, which led him to believe he had more somewhere. It was worth investigating another day.

But currently, Matthew was asleep, clinging like a baby monkey to him, for dear life. His hand smoothed over his hair gently, pushing the curl away from his nose with a fond smile. Matthew was so precious, so dear, like a little doll to a little girl, but a wounded doll. A wounded animal, a deer in the headlights. Crash, crash, bang… Something like that. Sighing gently into his boyfriend's hair, he had to admit, through the pain, this was the best partner he had ever had… Partner, it sounded so official, so possessive. So precious. Matthew was his, and he was Matthew's. It was… A relief, a great, big relief, to feel someone loved him, trusted him.

Matthew mumbled in his sleep, clinging to the Frenchman more, and three hours after midnight, Mattie was crying. Again. Mumbling incoherently, the broken-hearted Canadian clung to him and just sobbed, soon quieting down, but not the same as his peaceful face. Pushing away from Francis, the Canadian dried his tears and kissed his lips faintly, weakly, but he still kissed Francis. It felt like everything was alright with him, he was happy with Francis. Sighing quietly, he pressed his face into his neck, thankful they still had boxers, even though they had undressed each other earlier, in a moment of heated passion, of which he still didn't regret. "I want you to listen… Again. Just… Just listen to me, Francis. I keep having nightmares…" He didn't wait for Francis to nod, which he felt the man's neck move to signify one. "I haven't told anyone this, but… I can trust you. R-right?"

Francis nodded softly, kissing his forehead warmly. "You are more zan welcome to tell." He sighed contently, thankful Matthew trusted him, thankful for having Matthew… Thankful to even sleep in the same bed as him, whenever he wanted to, actually. Though Matthew seemed terrified and sad, he seemed ready to get past whatever held his true potential back, so if it helped his precious, sweet Matthew with a sadistic streak, he'd welcome it. And Francis sighed in relief that Matthew took a deep breath, beginning to talk, his face more serious, violet eyes not meeting his. That was okay with him, at least for now, if it got Matthew to release his stress and tension of… Whatever was from his past.

**-[Casual flashback]-**

_Matthew sat watching his stupid, arrogant twin brother across the lunch room at school, sighing miserably at how no one noticed he sat there, no one gave him a glance. Alfred was into this guy and he didn't even know it, an Arthur Kirkland, who recently moved into the area from London, England. Mattie imagined he liked it there, seeing as no one liked him right now, and there was no one but his brother who wanted to be around him. Alfred's stupid laughter was hurting his ears, loud and impossible to ignore. He got to his feet, taking his backpack and trash from the packed lunch with him._

_Alfred was on the baseball team, and it was spring currently, so the hockey team was going to be next year. They'd given Matthew the team captain position on the team, which meant someone acknowledged him finally, and only in his first year as a high schooler. Yes, it was almost over, but he still felt honored that a freshman-to-be-sophomore hockey player could be that high in how he played. Logic wasn't strong there, but that trumped Alfred in everything. Not even Alfred got that on the baseball team. _

_At any rate, Alfred followed him, Arthur close behind them. Arthur seemed to go everywhere Alfred did, only because he was getting to know the school's layout. It was only his second day. With a sigh, Matthew threw his lunch away, getting his hall pass out to go to the library, when Alfred pulled him to the side, and smirked at him. "Alfred, let go of my arm… It's not becoming of you, like Papa said. Just because our stepmother and Papa smother you with the love I could use…" He moved his arm and shoved his twin brother to the side, a groan as Alfred pinned him to the wall, in the way a brother shouldn't, yet how Alfred always treated him. "Alfie! Let. Go. Of. Me."_

_"You're too weak and too unimportant to beat anything of mine. I'll make Arthur my boyfriend before you ever get laid." Alfred just smirked, leaning forwards to whisper in his ear, making Matthew mad that no one noticed Alfred being inappropriate. With a growl in annoyance, Matthew shoved his shoulders, effectively knocking his twin into the wall, not having the upper hand. At this, everybody noticed the twins, while Arthur seemed more alarmed at Matthew's snapping into violence than anything else. "What the hell, dude!? What was that for!?" He pushed his brother backwards, and that's when Matthew spoke back to him, in just two short words._

_"Baiser-vous, mon frère. Fuck. You, Alfred. " Running out of the cafeteria, Matthew ran like hell, right into the form of the principal, who he drew away from in fear, holding his bag close, but tripping into someone. He hardly took a glance at the person before Alfred, pounded down the hall, calling his name, and for once, Matthew was thankful the rest of the students were in the cafeteria of their small school, crying silently, locking the bathroom door behind him, the last stall locked soon after. Mattie had a feeling he was screwed as soon as they found him._

**_To be continued…_**


	7. Ch 6: Meet Me in the Middle

**Author's Note****: **Going to update today and maybe tomorrow, but I'll be away with family Saturday and Sunday, so that means no definite updating. I doubt it will use a computer; sorry about that, but I'll make this chapter about showing modern-day Alfred, Arthur, and, of course, the darling Franada. After all, a chapter without them seems stupid. As a story note, though, this story goes from then Francis first met Mattie in Scott's Bar (Alistair reference), to when Alfred dies. It's one big flashback. The movie quote is, indeed, from one of my favorite movies, which I state the title obviously enough as _The Big Lebowski_. I don't own that movie quote. I have so much fun writing these chapter… I don't get why. Heavy swearing (but not off the top) and incest hints like before. Now then, enjoy, enjoy, friends.

Love and rainbows,

~Ilead

**Translations**:

_* Mon ange _= My angel

_** Non _= No

_End of note._

**Chapter 6: Meet Me in the Middle**

Matthew glanced nervously at the door of the café, not really wanting to see Alfred or Arthur again, since last Christmas' disaster; but Francis said he needed closure, so the Canadian obeyed him and nervously clutched his hand. It may have been too tight to really be comfortable, but Mattie was scared whitless; fear was a hell of a thing for him, always had been and always would be. Francis already despised his brother for trying to kiss him, in school, years ago, but that was hardly the point. He'd inflicted pain on Francis when he got mad watching a movie, where a shiner now rested, rather comfortably. There wasn't any pride in the action. It was shameful to him, and Francis pretended it was fine. Everything was fine, everything was fine.

At any rate, Alfred was here, holding hands with Arthur; Francis got over it easily when he met Matthew. Francis was the best thing that could have happened to Matthew and they both knew it; Alfred hadn't met Francis yet, but Arthur probably told him terrible stories. What a way to make a first impression, huh? Matthew glanced at his brother with wide eyes, seeing he looked less than pleased to see the Frenchman, causing the shy, frightened Canadian to hide his whimper in Francis' shoulder. This was going to be bad, and he knew it, but he had to have… No. He _needed_ Alfred to like Francis. Arthur, too, it if mattered, but his brother was the most important. Arthur's scowl at Francis started the conversation, once Alfred and Arthur sat down. There was no shiner on the other two in company.

"I don't like you," Alfred stated to Francis, like a damnable fact, not even looking at Matthew. "I hate your jerk off face; I hate your jerk off nose; "Let me make something plain… I don't like your jerk off name, I don't like your jerk off face, I don't like your jerk off behavior, and don't like you." The American huffed, now looking at his brother, glaring daggers, looking jealously at Francis. "Now, name the movie it's from, or you ain't gonn' pass my brother's safety. I'll beat you black and blue, we clear?" He crossed both arms over his chest, staring at Francis cruelly enough to make Arthur uncomfortable. For some reason, the shiner was ignored by both men across from the off-putting couple.

"_Ze Big Lebowzki_, non**?" Francis stared Alfred straight in the eyes, glaring back. "I will not tolerate you ztating zat I cannot be wiz Mathieu, _mon ange*_." Francis' stare broke Alfred's eye contact easily, and he looked to Matthew, holding him closer. Matthew had prepped him for that line, and he was glad he could know the movie. Alfred may scare his little angel, but he was protective of his fragile, perfect Canadian, even if he did beat him black and blue in anger. It was all worth it when he comforted a crying, broken Canadian to sleep at night. He'd taken Matthew's belongings, four large boxes of belongings, to his apartment, making him leave his apartment.

It balanced out when he could just hold Matthew close. Not that they knew each other well, but Francis was protective, and he wanted to know his precious rose was safe. A smile, he learned, really was worth a million words- all in one. He loved when Matthew openly, honestly, sheepishly, or boyishly smile. And there was no way in hell Alfred could take this innocently broken man away from him, not after everything so far. After Matthew told him he was in in-school suspension for swearing at his brother, for trying to kiss him, in French, he just felt it was his responsibility to put Alfred in his place. Matthew's cowering in fear broke his heart, figuratively but not literally. "Matthieu, it iz okay. I am 'ere."

Francis sighed softly, kissing his forehead, then his nose and lips chastely. It relaxed him, thank God. Matthew nodded, sitting up quietly, a whimper into his shoulder soon after. "Matthieu is not feeling well; I believe I zhoud take 'im 'ome. Iz zere anyzing you feel the need to tell me? I am not going to tolerate you zcaring my precious angel." His glare to the American, cerulean meeting cerulean, was obvious, and his glance at Arthur stated he was ashamed. "You ought to make him eaze off, Arzur." He shook his head, going back to comforting Matthew to the best of his abilities. "Matthieu…" The obviously frightened Canadian closed his eyes, just listening to his voice to relax. That made Francis relax.

"You hurt a hair on his head and yer dead, Frenchie." Alfred would have hit him if Matthew didn't stop him, pushing his hand forcefully backwards, breaking a bone for sure, glaring at his brother. "Matthew, you little…" His eyes blazed with anger before Arthur glared at Alfred, telling him no with one glance at him. The American back down, nursing his broken hand like an innocent, but annoyed, spoiled child would losing a toy. "Matthew, you little shit." He shook his head, a frown severely. There were no more words as he watched Francis gently help Matthew stand, and the two alike-blonds left. "Artie, he's going to pay for that."

"_Enough_, _Alfred, enough_. Haven't you put him through enough already? You're still bloody jealous of Francis since you found out your brother chose him! You… You… You wanker! He's your damn brother, you idiot." Arthur slapped him harshly, getting up. "Use your own way home, I'm taking the car. You're sleeping on the couch." If that display of Arthur's voice wasn't enough, the slap surely was. "I hate you, Alfred F. Jones, with every fiber of my being. Remember _that_ when you lust after your brother." He stormed off, leaving the American to chase after Arthur, forgetting his wounded wrist for just a moment.


	8. Ch 7: Marry Me, Okay?

**Author's Note**: Hello there, everyone… I haven't felt well for days, and I still don't, but here we go. I owe another thank you to the gracious Lylinn. I'm doing a lot of things right now in total brain block… I have roughly five pen pals, a play to write, many short stories, a poem I still need to complete or two, and.. On top of all this, life is dramatic. Being the person I am, I took days off since my return from my two day trip (it was fantastic); so sorry if this is a slow chapter to connect to the next one, but I got this beautiful Alfred death in mind… Mmm, death. It probably has the consistency of tofu… And once again, if there's any Hetalia couples you wanna see in a one-shot, let me know… I'm working on a one-shot for an Arthur/Mattie, a UkCan. I'm going back to taking requests to get more life inspired. Enough for now, though. Flashback next chapter about Matthew's past. Sorry this chapter is cheesy, but it's mostly fluffy. enjoy, enjoy, friends.

Love and rainbows,

~Illead

**Translations**:

* _Mon ange_ = See previous chapter

** _Je t'aime, mon amour. _= I love you, my love.

*** _Non_! = No!

_**** Je t'aime aussi, Francis… _= I love you, too, Francis…

_End of note._

**Chapter 7: Marry Me, Okay?**

**_-[Story Below]-_**

Matthew leaned into Francis' chest, back pressed close, sitting in the man's lap watching a movie. He had been cuddlier since the week earlier with Alfred and Arthur, at the café, where Matthew cried for two hours. Francis made him stop before the Canadian tiredly fell asleep, and he hadn't beaten Francis since. That was at the point Francis decided he wanted to be with the confused, emotional, snappish Canadian all his life, adopt a few children, and raise a family. It was something he had yet to tell Matthew, but he hoped the Canadian didn't snap on him. Knowing him, he probably would… Change scared Matthew, which Francis also realized about his sweet, passive aggressive boyfriend. Matthew sighed softly, alerting Francis to how sad it sounded.

"Matthieu? W'at is wrong? Iz zere zomezing wrong, _mon ange_*?" Francis kissed his cheek softly as he watched the credits roll, making the screen black with mere words left. Turning off the DVD player, he turned Matthew so his legs rested on either side of the outer legs of Francis himself. Matthew leaned into him like second nature, sighing again but not answering. "Tell me, just tell me…" Francis buried his nose into his hair, to smell that maple scent Matthew gave off, a light smile. "_Je t'aime, mon amour_**. I will do anyzing to make you 'appy."

Matthew blushed brightly, hiding his face as soon as he knew he was blushing, earning a loving chuckle and a fond look from his French boyfriend. "A-Anything?" He asked, half stammering, bunching up the fabric of his wife beater between his nimble fingers. "Don't leave me then… I don't want to be alone," he murmured into his shoulder, ticking his skin where the wife beater he wore didn't cover the skin. "Marry me… Okay? I think I could marry you… I really, really love you, too... Francis…"

"Marry? We do not know each ozer very well yet, Matthieu… Are you zure about zis, Matthieu?" Francis smoothed out his hair, trying to see if it was genuine or clingy. "I did not zink you would want to marry me, _mon ange_*…" Francis kissed the top of his head lovingly, humming softly and enjoying having him this close. "I can marry you if you want me to, but I do not understand. Can you… Explain zis to me, zen?" Francis relaxed into the back of Matthew's couch, while the dependent blonde held onto him tighter, a whimper. He was leaving bruises and seemed about to cry. "Matthieu… We do not 'ave to-"

"_Non_***! I _want_ to marry you because… Because… Dammit… I want you to marry me, because…" Matthew quietly sobbed into his chest, now, near his heart, soaking his wife beater. The weather could permit him to wear a wife beater out, and he looked amazing in it, of course, but Matthew now mattered the most in his life. It was worth not getting laid every night by some stranger, and Matthew was beautiful even when he was angry. Especially when he was angered, and it was again cliché to what he thought of him. "I love you, I love you… _Je t'aime aussi, Francis_****_…_ I want to spend the rest of my like with you. Just… Please…"

Francis nodded with a wide smile to his rose, his angel, his love, and chuckled, kissing his lips hungrily. Matthew gave into his hungry kiss, moving the remove politely to the table beside the couch, happy he locked the door. It became a tradition with Francis, and he liked that about him. Breaking the kiss for air, the Canadian let Francis lay him on his back, a groan softly at how easy he was to convince to make love, in a good way. Francis pressed his lips again to his lips, instantly making the taller man give a light moan, signal to take their activities to the bedroom, and picking him up bridal style, he smiled proudly at the man who would now be his fiancée, flushed in the face currently. "I will marry you, my pretty rose… I will." Matthew pressed his flushed face into his shoulder, a giggle lightly. Francis was starting to love every Saturday he got to spend the night with Matthew. They were perfect together, no matter what.

**_-[To be continued…]-_**


	9. Author's Note 2

**Author's Note**: Well, heyo again, everyone... This story will be back on Tuesday of next week, I promise. College, learner's permit, and a whole lot of things are happening lately. It's hectic, but I will return to this by Tuesday of next week. In the meantime, catch up on what happened in detail and tell me what you might want to see happen, and I will try me best. Thank you for being patient and following the story. It means a lot to me, each and everyone of you, and review if you see something you want to tell me for the story. Again, thanks!

Love and rainbows,

~Illead

_End of Note._


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